Luke Caddock and the Dominion Seal
by slashwolf
Summary: It is the age of the Founders; Hogwarts's just begun in a world where magic gets you burned at the stake. Caddock, half-blood, faces dark times when he finds he's fallen for Gryffindor who's fallen for Slytherin.
1. Prologue: Year 993

LUKE CADDOCK AND THE DOMINION SEAL

Prologue: Year 993

It had been the moon that glanced off the glittering lake that cast the broken cliffs pale. Four wizards and witches were at work, laying the groundwork in incessant enunciating, swaying their wrists in a surgical fashion, and chaining a wide scale circle of glowing white runes. A budding energy pulsed through the earth as sparks snapped at the woven grass. The circle became intact.

One witch tossed back her hood, revealing jolly cheeks and keen blue eyes, and bundled up her wiry red hair. Rolling up the sleeves of her smoky robe, she gave a crow, "Exceptional work in its all-hood, folks! I sense our ancestors tonight."

"Dear Helga, they're laughing. You praise everything your eyes set on, it's misfortunate for the rest of us," a gaunt-faced man in softness retorted, appalling her into crossing her arms. He as well doffed his shroud, showing brilliant silver and wild hair. Salazar Slytherin didn't send a glance her way when he passed her, and she'd know by the flash of his cat-like eyes, approaching a tall, burly man with locks of golden rust. Salazar shot a shiny glare at him then upon the forest in the murky distance. Disinterested, he hissed, "Gryffindor. Save me."

A broad grin ignited his boyish face with throaty laughter. Godric turned and acknowledged her, "Not misfortunate at all, Helga, your spirit's uplifting! Let our work be done, then after, we shall have a good feast."

Helga shook her head with a wry gape at the men that departed before she clucked and took her girlfriend's elbow, "Come, Rowena. Ooh, don't you see it? Wasn't I true?"

"You are sanguine, so sometimes it does come off child-like," the woman shook her black, overflowing hair and pursed her rosy lips, "but it is not a problem. You both were true, and you both are, well, just… different."

"Everyday you wisen, I swear. I can't stand that snake," Helga's hands balled into fists before she noticed a muffled choke riled from her friend. Rowena was covering her mouth. Helga rushed to her side, arms around her, "Are you all right? Is it the baby?"

"I'm fine," Rowena swallowed, blinking rapidly, a bit off guard. "She's still kicking."

"I can you get water. I can go to the lake -," Helga stammered but she was silenced with a look. "No? Okay. Let our work be done quickly."

They returned to the foundation, now laying down the diameter from opposite ends, crawling on their knees towards each other. It would be in the middle they meet, murmuring ancient charms. Helga kept a fretful eye on her and her round stomach all the while. Rowena wasn't daunted.

The men were silent when they strolled through the gaps of the gnarled wilderness, Salazar occasionally slicing roots with a flick of his bony wand to clear the way. Godric scanned the depths of the night, sometimes startled when a unicorn galloped out of nowhere, but there was no real danger yet. They bumped and brushed into each other in their stagger, but made no reaction of it. Godric stretched and relaxed in the quiet ambiance, slightly sleepy.

"There, that would be noteful," Salazar pointed at a mountain, subtle behind a fury of towering trunks compassed with vines and cobwebs. They made notice of the several blue arrows that jut out of a tree. "Centaurs roamed through here. Keep awake."

"Nervous?" Godric gave an amused chuckle.

"Naturally," Salazar said without a beat, "Who'd else save me from that dawn of a wretch?"

"Why let Hufflepuff under your skin? It's Hufflepuff," asked Godric, who faced him with his eyes gleaming a dark emerald. Salazar kept his stare low and averted, rubbing his primate knuckles together. "I didn't hear about your distaste for her before."

"Forsake we were busy with other matters, and mind your business."

"What matters? You've been a shade for the past few years," Godric perched a thick eyebrow, but he wasn't answered. Salazar muttered under his breath an incantation that enflamed the barricade in sparkling black fire, the ashen smoke lifting a bloody color. That was Salazar. He'd rather die than freely announce the spells he crafted, but Godric cared not; the man was fascinating.

When Godric understood that Salazar wasn't in the mood, he dropped the conversation and braved through the deterioration to the other side. He raised his baton, a sleek limestone-carven wand, and began to stroke. Salazar followed cadence, and together they shouted, "Kallegu!"

In a seeping hiss, pressure erupted from the soil, and the ground disheveled without warning. Godric shot out an arm to keep Salazar back. Their wands grew heavier in their grasp, signaling them to raise it even higher. As the wands were raised, a myriad of monumental blocks levitated in the sky before vanishing into a violet lightning.

Their ears perked at a faint clamor. Salazar cuffed Godric's shoulder as he stood so close to him that their wavering breaths clashed into their necks. They Disapparated just before a volley of arrows missed their mark.

In a whoop, centaurs charged in a horde before their war cries died out. They stared at the arrows that penetrated nothing but footprints.

In a pop, they Apparated in the shores of the lake, drenched waist-down. Salazar hissed loudly and was the first to thrash towards land. Godric did his best to hide a smirk, but Salazar had caught the sparkle in his eyes and narrowed. Then in a rumble, a long tentacle emerged in a brief rain, pillaring high, before striking down with a slap on the surface, nearly missing Godric by a few feet. It was Godric's turn to hurtle out of the water. Abashedly, he faced Salazar who left him a contemptuous grin.

"Oh my!" Helga came running from the cliff, her bosoms bouncing at which Salazar cringed, "Was that a squid just now? In the lake?"

"Yes," Godric peered and panted, all soaked. "There's centaurs too in the forest."

"Really, is this the ideal place to found a school of witchcraft and wizardry here?" Helga posed the question. "The best in the world for our students?"

"Yes, yes!" Rowena pitched in stubbornly when she arrived, "I told you, that warty hog led me here, on a full moon, and a seer said it would be ours."

"Don't start that again," Salazar looked away to the lake, placid again, glaring bright.

"I'm dead serious, Salazar!" Rowena called after him and looked to the rest of the group, rambling in as much as she could. "The warty hog wasn't there when I looked, but when the mist came in, I got lost, and that hog ran in and led me out here. I am telling you!"

"What happened to the hog, Rowena?" Helga sneezed. "Excuse me."

"I… it was gone, I didn't see," she faltered.

"A hallucination," Salazar said flatly. "You're with child."

"No, it was lucid. And you don't hallucinate with child."

"A ghost, then?" Godric posed another possibility.

Helga sneezed again, "My, isn't this strange! I've no allergies."

"I'm content with where we are," Salazar looked bored.

"But it's dangerous!" objected Helga.

"Careful," he pointed past her, "The ghost of the warty hog is watching you."

She crossed her arms, "Don't take me for a dimwit, Salazar!"

Salazar soon contradicted her, hissing in Parseltongue.

"It is best that we prepare our students to face such dangers," Godric put their quibble to rest. "Otherwise, we fail as teachers. We're about to establish a school here. While we may or may not be ready, we are proficient to suit whichever occasion. Remember why we're here."

He held his wand up high, and Salazar did the same, following tempo.

"Kallegu," they spoke in unison.

In a crack of thunder, giant boulders appeared, hovering above the cliff. The four wizards and witches slashed and drew motions in the air with their wands, shouting a fountain of sounds. Crumbling apart and dropping into bricks and pavement, structures were gradually assembled. It was a sight to behold, castles and towers beginning to form, perfectly according to design. Then the magical fiber that bound the grounds into place was sealed.

"What do we call it?" Helga proposed the question, still gazing with wonder.

Briefly, they fell silent.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Salazar said.

The rest ripped with hysterical laughter. When they started to speak excitedly about it, Salazar frowned at them disapprovingly, "I was only joshing! You cannot be serious!"

A high-pitched shriek echoed.

"What was that?" Godric took some steps forward before Salazar stopped him and pointed to one of the windows of the castles. It was a floating light.

They entered their school grounds, wands at ready, watching the light filter through the windows in muffled thuds. Helga commented on being thankful there were no glass or anything valuable inside as of yet. Rowena, despite being pregnant, chose to go with, tailing behind her good friend. Salazar and Godric were at front, braving up the steps to the main entrance.

There was no wood, no knob, only an arched and empty doorway that revealed a dusty and gothic interior. A light plummeted from a balcony into dead center. It screeched in agony and in inscrutable pain. Helga started to sneeze uncontrollably before they came to the conclusion it was the very thing that was irking her button nose.

The spirit of a warty hog, shimmering and translucent, writhed on the floor. Rowena dug her boot into the back of Salazar's leg that made him trip and scowl at her.

"We've bound it into the foundation…" Helga said, struck with pity.

The hog twisted and convulsed before it was blasted apart, flayed in indecipherable runic markings. Salazar neared it and whispered, kneeling to its side. In an instant, somewhat flesh had sewn it together, colorful fabric and hair, in short bursts.

Smoke trailed while the others watched on peculiarly.

Suddenly, a loud cackling filled the room, sending a jolt into them while Salazar stumbled back.

A little man in a bell-covered hat and an orange tie rose in the air with his legs crossed, his face sinister and pleased. He continued his mad cackling until he was blue in the face, followed by him soaring upstairs into the left corridor and having gone.

"What… what just happened here?" Helga squeaked, having clung onto Rowena before she was shoved off. The three looked at Salazar fixedly.

"That was a poltergeist," Salazar turned face to clarify, "The warty hog… its spirit, actually, appeared to be trapped inside the layers and layers of our spell-casting. Tried to set it free, but by then it was too late, its nature had changed. It's… pure chaos. Indestructible."

"This was a bad idea," Helga shook her head, "Nay, it's terrible! I will not stand for this. We cannot permit children in here with a poltergeist flying around."

"You may be right," Godric sighed, already exhausted.

"No…"

Everyone glanced to Rowena, whose smile was small but was growing.

"We can handle it, we're proficient," she spoke sharply, her dark eyes burning fervently, "Look around us. Look at what we've done, and we can do so much more. We're the founders of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, year nine hundred ninety-three. We're not done. Let our work be done. I'll start on the dining room."

Helga was on the verge of tears, "You wisen every passing second, Rowena Ravenclaw! I'll start with the kitchen!"

Godric and Salazar glanced at each other and shook hands in congratulatory laughter. They started up the stairs to look for the poltergeist and turned left to a corridor where they last saw it disappear to.

It wasn't far down the dim path that Salazar finally surprised Godric and propped him onto the stone wall bathed in pure moonlight, their fingers interlocked, their lips roughly contouring an embrace. Salazar's tongue slowly snaked across those big lips he secretly adored before penetrating, but Godric pushed him back, blinking at his silhouette.

"We can't," Godric cleared his throat. Salazar's brows furled with anger.

"What do you mean we can't?" Salazar hissed in a menacing tone.

"Think about aftermorrow," said Godric, uncomfortably. He couldn't look into Salazar's piercing gaze. He looked so betrayed. "There'll be students. Parents. Alumni. One little slip-up, everything we've all worked hard for would be undone. We've known this."

"Don't slip up then," Salazar pinned Godric again with a forceful hand, knocking a breath out of him, before his hand unfastened a tog, sending the robe sailing to the floor. Godric was left wearing a faded tunic of red and gold, silky briefs that cradled a thickening bulge, and boots that he voluntarily dug out of.

Salazar wrestled him out of his tunic just to have a taste of his erect nipples, licking his lips at the very thought and again at the sight of them. He stole a taste of the lion's ribs too, but Godric interrupted him and dismembered the tog on his robe with a slash of his wand, and the robe Salazar had worn fell apart rashly. He wore mail and nothing below but boots. His cock was already hard and rising.

Godric perched a thick brow, "Were you freezing?"

"Ice blood," Salazar's eyes shone silver. "So, no."

"Doesn't it hurt to touch me?" Godric realized.

Salazar said nothing; instead, he lunged his tongue into his mouth, constricted his arms around him, and thrust their groins together with nothing but silk between them.

"You know that -," Godric managed to groan out through their kissing, struggling away from Salazar's persistent tongue, "You know that we can't do this anymore…"

Salazar backed away, almost intensely preparing for a predatory strike, but calmed, "Yes. I was just caught ablaze. In short time, I will find my lady."

"Good, Salazar," Godric, looking relieved, hugged his good friend tight, "And I, my queen."

Salazar, smelling nothing but flesh, still slipped a cold hand down his silk red briefs and clutched around his screaming cock, "But tonight, mine."

Godric moaned, glancing up at the vaulted ceiling and thinking about their nights while camping in the forest together, rolling over each other in their tent, taken by ecstasy. Salazar sank with every soft kiss down his hardened muscles, exploding an intense pleasure that raked up and down his treacherous body. Godric closed his eyes and bit on his lower lip.

At the far end of the corridor, after seeing everything she needed to see, Helga Hufflepuff left downstairs with a hand that clasped her throat and collapsed on her bum.

"No, oh no…" Helga choked. "They doth ruin us all."


	2. Chapter 1: The Winter Lion

LUKE CADDOCK AND THE DOMINION SEAL

**CHAPTER ONE: THE WINTER LION**

Year 1011 - Eighteen Years Later

The windmills churned on a field of tilling commoners who forded wheelbarrows of parsnips and watercresses across a trickling stream into a haze of a village where horses nicker, scuffing up the South Street of muddy straw. It was high noon for Muggles, and despite the day cheerful with the clucks of fowl and hollers of running boys, Luke Caddock snuck a grim stare at the staked agonized faces of dead witches and wizards that lined the front of a watchtower. He glanced up the beaming white stone and saw at the top the guards had been watching him peculiarly, so he forced a wave only to be ignored. He kept begging silently to himself.

When he made sure no one was looking, Luke slipped his calloused hangs into the trench, cupping freezing water, and scrubbed his sunburned skin and blond hair clean. He gasped at the invigorating cleanse. It had been a while since he bathed.

Hiccups of wine trailed nearby. A friar, stout and red-faced, waddled over, plopped a sheepskin satchel, and plunged in. It took seconds before the drunkard realized the satchel and the boy were gone, and angry men were storming out of the stables to ward him off. Plucking a feather, Luke made a brown hen rocket out of a maid's arm and snatched two steaming biscuits from the basket she had dropped. He took an appeased chomp and was on his merry way.

In front of the church, a mob gathered around a solemn priest that raved about the committed sins of witches and wizards. Luke's heart pounded; they were ripe for the picking now that they were absorbing the elder's hallowed speech. It had to be plenty rewarding for the risk was too great. His keen eyes settled on a tall man, his arms were crossed. Around his belt was a dangling chain of a pendant, an embroidered lion of crystal. It emanated a spastic twirl of kaleidoscopic colors, a misty gleam that Luke instantly coveted.

"That be the one," Luke thought to himself with quick determination, scouting the area for any onlookers. The coast was clear. Stalking as a jungle cat would, his eyes set on the shiny trinket, he stretched his fingers. But the man was turning to his alarm, so he ducked and crouched, pretending to rummage through the satchel. It was all faded Biblical scrolls from what he could see. He choked at the musk of sweat.

"Pardons," the man passed in a gruff, unforgiving voice.

Luke seized the chain and it ribbed out from the belt easily. He examined the lion gem with a smirk spreading across, elated at his luck. He stood up and saw that the man he nicked from had not gone yet, but instead stood several feet away with a wand out, hunched and looking stupefied. Before he knew it, Luke was struck paralyzed and fell backwards onto the sodden ground.

The mob cried horrifically at the sight of him Petrified, pointing an accusing finger at the tall man that sprinted away and madly screaming after him with hate, "Warlock! Get him!"

His mind raced. It occurred strange to him to be lying on his back in the dirt, incapable of budging. His body had clamped up on him like a trap, rigid like a rock. The priest glanced down at him with pity before he left. He watched clouds idly crawl by and suffered the intense sniffing of a flea-bitten donkey in his face before he understood no one could help him. They were going to thieve everything off him, even his clothes, and bury him alive. He was the only one who could hear himself screaming.

But someone came back.

A silhouette of a head poked out in the sun, hair curly and gleaming afire. It was the same wizard he pickpocketed. He bent down, lifted the chain, the prism sagging in circles, and whispered something to Luke a verse that he couldn't hear. Feeling coursed through his muscles again in a rush, and he gasped at his freedom like a fish out of water.

"Come," the stranger growled, grabbing his shirt by the fist, and dragged him to his feet. They stumbled into a brisk walk and turned in another lane. "We don't have much time."

"Ger'off me!" Luke wrestled out of his powerful grip but was wrung into compliance. He flushed pink at being manhandled. This hadn't happened to him before. Eyeing his boyish face, Luke hated how his emerald eyes looked actually kind. "What are you on about?"

A flash of pity shone in them, "You don't know? You look no older than seventeen."

"I'm nineteen," said Luke, at first defiantly but when he couldn't deny it anymore, dejectedly. "Yes, I know, I'm like you. Scum of the earth."

"Bite your tongue!" he gave a fierce roar in his face, "You know nothing about yourself."

Luke frowned, "Hold on. How did you know that I…?"

"The pendant you filched was charmed so no Muggle sees it," the man spoke rashly, keeping a steady eye out for upcoming people but the road was quiet and they were alone. "You can imagine by how disarmed I was back there."

When he realized he was still holding the boy captive, he blinked. "Can I trust you?"

Luke tentatively nodded, and just like that, he was let go.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is not far from here," the wizard scratched at the scruff of his strong chin, speaking a bit too fast for Luke's taste, but he still could catch on, "founded not too long ago. It starts tomorrow. I've come here to collect two students. There's room for one more. I'm offering you only one chance to do better with your life, to be around people you can trust. Do you trust me?"

Luke thought about what used to be his home. The gagging cries of his father in flames sent chills down his spine. He had been running for so long, from his family who wanted him dead, from innocents he stole from. He looked into the inviting, green eyes again, and nodded, "Y-yeah."

"My name is Godric Gryffindor," he said, holding his head high, and glanced at the pendant. "I'm going to give this back to you. This way I know it's in good hands."

"No one will touch it, Godric," the boy promised as he took it in marvel and wore it around his neck. He could've sworn he felt it quiver. "You can call me Luke."

"Surname," Godric strained out to Luke's astonishment. They were to be formal.

"I…erm, okay, it's Caddock," he gave in, looking away. "Luke Caddock."

"Come, we've no time," Godric said, starting off in a jog down the lane, so Luke ran to catch up with him, a burst of euphoria overtaking him. This was it. He was actually running somewhere for the first time in his life, and with someone there, at least someone he could finally trust.

It was a rickety path up a hill outside the village to a cottage with ash spewing from its hearth. The small country gate was broken off its hinge, and the flowers out front had paled and withered to their death. There was an intense aroma of cinnamon spice and pumpkin, and suddenly, voices quieted so they only heard the fire crackling inside.

Gryffindor rapped four times, cleared his throat, and spoke clearly, "Stars, it's Gryffindor."

The door swung open like an explosion, and Gryffindor was grabbed and pulled inside before the door slammed in Luke's face. Luke blinked a few times before the door thud and then swung open again frantically. A wrinkled hand flapped out like a flag, "Get in, get in!"

Luke stumbled through and saw a large mixture of family huddled together in the corner at the table in front of the fire, a brazen overcast of a crowded dwelling where a pot was scrubbing itself and a broom was knocking up the steps from the cellar. Rats skittered by. Most of the family at the table was old women, wrapped in woolen quilts, who peered at him inauspiciously. Gryffindor, with an outreached palm, beckoned him to the table to sit next to him.

Luke sat across a boy, maybe younger than him, with broader shoulders and a handsome face that gazed at him, lips soft and slackened. For some reason, it was an expression of sensuality that threw him off. Someone was paying him serious attention. He darted a glance to the far end of the table where a girl tugged at her dark, slovenly hair and frowned when she caught him looking.

He averted back to the boy, now embarrassed to see him licking his lips. His jaws clenched as he checked to see if anyone had seen, and was rather relieved to find no one had. It was a private humiliation then.

Godric was finished a discussion with the ladies on the rubric for one of his classes, and addressed the girl who woke from her daydreaming, "Allison Tibbet, are you good to go back? This would be your final year now?"

"Mhm," she nodded without a care, "I'm good."

"How was your summer?" he inquired after receiving a cup of tea.

"Scary," she said, flicking a sharp look at Luke, sending goosebumps up his neck. "Been hiding in here with my ma and my auntie. They're looking for women more than men, did you know?"

"Things will change," the wizard told her in an assuring tone before he shifted to the other boy who snapped from staring at Luke, "Evan Craft, you're in my House, aren't you?"

Luke became baffled.

"Yes sir," Evan started to chant half-heartedly, "Gryffindor, Gryffindor, hear us lions roar, roar."

"Ho, ho!" the rest of the women clapped in delight and fawned over Hogwarts, relaying a pitcher to fill up everyone's cup. "If only we had that back in our time, my! We always had to sneak out to the woods at night. Do you remember that, Ann?"

Allison politely turned down their request to hear the Slytherin cheer and reminded them that Slytherin wasn't one to toot to his own horn. Gryffindor didn't take any offense, grinning. Luke found it funny he was also grinning, because he really had no idea what they were talking about, but he loved the way they were cheered up, despite their predicament. He lost that smile though when he noticed Evan admiring every inch of him. He was relentless!

"Sir?" Luke got their attention, abashed. "What do you mean, House?"

"He's Godric Gryffindor!" the old women overlapped each other in exclamations and heckling. "How do you not know this man? He's the best duelist of our time."

Godric had to settle them down, and to stifle his laughter when he heard one of them outright branded the boy a tit-feeding dolt, before he expounded to him the structure, "I am one of the four founders that established Hogwarts. We had different ideas of who should be let in the school. I wanted the brave. The courageous ones that would readily go to war for a noble cause. All the traits I see in Craft."

Evan flashed a white smile and raised his brows at Luke who inside secretly wanted to punch him out cold for his barraging innuendos in public.

"Slytherin wanted the ambitious ones, the resourceful ones who gladly would rise to power and authority. That's where Tibbet's in."

Allison bared teeth and gracefully waved. Luke couldn't help but chuckle at her lethargy.

"Ravenclaw wanted only the brilliant, the cleverest of them all, and if you don't happen to fit in any of these three Houses, good ol' Hufflepuff would kindly take you," said Godric, patting him on the back. Luke wondered where he would fit but before he began to analyze himself, a thought dawned on him that he was actually going to school. He was going to a place where kids like him would be, all together. He couldn't begin to imagine what that would be like.

"We should be going," Gryffindor arose.

The Tibbets and Crafts acted somewhat estranged, having accepted that they were separating. It was a routine they've been through the last six years. Allison and Evan gathered their belongings while Luke stood by himself at the door, facing his own feet. Evan was speedier and invaded his breathing space with a short nod, shying a sly look from the others, "I hope you stay my dorm."

"Erm, thanks…" Luke made a pained whisper as if he was slapped in the face.

"Evan Craft," he held up a hand to shake, "What's yours?"

Luke reluctantly took his hand, which was hot to the touch, and was immediately dominated. Evan was surely in control of the handshake, wrapped around his fingers with eagerness. Evan's eyes were gold. He stammered, pulling out of contact, "Luke… Caddock."

"Daccock?" Evan lowered his glance.

"No," Luke cracked an affronted smile, "Cad… dock."

"How big are you? Are you a virgin?"

Allison walked through between them and opened the door without a beat, spitting in Evan's direction, "Take a hint, pervert. He's not interested."

Luke took this chance to escape. He caught up to her at the gate, "Thanks, Allison."

"It's Alix, if you want," she looked at her black nails, almost disinterested. Her eyes were black as coals and darted like flies. "That's just Evan, he's like that with everyone. It took a few seasons and a fork stabbing before he finally left me alone. You just got to mark your ground, Luke. Got to own something."

"Yeah…" Luke nodded, feeling dazed to hear this much from her.

"I can't believe you didn't know Gryffindor," Alix dulled. "It was me. The one who called you a tit-sucking dolt, by the way."

Luke sniggered and glanced down at the lion pendant, then felt extraordinary. He was found by Godric Gryffindor, or rather it was him who found him instead. His heart pounded. It was because of Godric life had meaning again.

The wizard stepped out of the cottage with a throaty laugh, the wind ruffling and playing with his hair, "G'bye, Stars. You take care now."

Gryffindor's eyes settled on him. Those kind, emerald green eyes. He gave a heartening, boyish grin and scratched at the beard of his chiseled facade again. He appeared relieved that was over with, a little drained. He stepped out and faced the west where the sun was falling, and they came across the vision of rolling hills, faded sierras, and the miles-stretched wilderness on the horizon.

Luke realized that the journey to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was going to take quite a while. Evan looked back at him with a knowing smirk.

He was amazed how unrelenting Evan was on their trek, asking question after question, inquiring him on who he was and where he'd come from. Luke managed to careen the interview with vague and meaningless responses, snorted when Evan objected as he put on a woolen sweater when it got chilly, and snapped at him to eat aloe leaves. Alix had stuck her foot out when Evan wasn't ready to give up and tripped him.

Godric was far ahead of them, quicker and more in shape than they. That was when Luke started to watch him. His biceps were boulders of muscle, his physique only an amazingly strong hero could have, the way storytellers would have spun their gallant knights in their legends. It was no wonder Luke was easily overpowered, but he could have also easily run. He didn't. It was something about him that kept him wanting to stay.

"Hey, you're freckled," Evan pointed, almost reaching his cheek before Luke slapped his arm away, shouting at him to knock it off. Godric suddenly barked, halting the company, "That's enough, Craft! Keep your hands to yourself, or do I have to hold your hand?"

"Yessir, I mean, no sir," Evan kept a straight face.

"Caddock, come here," Godric ordered, "I need to talk to you."

Luke trudged through the tall prairie grass to Gryffindor's side and saw clearer where they were heading: a narrow rocky path that winded down a shaded valley and upslope to a wooded mountain. He lowered his gaze from his superior's soft stare, "Sir?"

"Sir this, Sir that since the table," a smile grew on Gryffindor's face.

Luke turned pink, "You're important."

"So are you," he raked his hands through his mane, and tilted at his shoulder, "So are them."

Reaching the grassy dip, they leaned on their backs and crawled as safely as they could down. On the way, Luke gagged at the sight of a festering corpse. Its mangled skull creaked, its orbital cavities following him, making him yelp and crash into Gryffindor's thick torso. At once, Gryffindor unsheathed his wand and aimed at the corpse, who also raised a wand. The simmering illusion of gore was lifted; it had been a wizard in hiding from passing Templars. They bowed their heads and the bald, long-bearded wizard parted on his way.

"You can call me Godric, just not in front of the others," Gryffindor said.

"Okay," Luke went quiet, relieved they were informal again.

"The pendant?"

Luke's hand shot to his neck. The winter lion was still there, a lustrous flare of color.

"Got it here, Godric."

"Caddock, if something were to happen to it…"

"I got it," Luke assured him. "I'll guard it."

Godric winked once and twisted round to check on the two last year students, which marked hexes at each other, almost setting one's hair on fire and casting an immovable raincloud on the other, before he bellowed at them to put their wands away. He turned back to Luke and snarled, "I hope you're in my House."

Luke's heart may have been swelling at what the founder had told him, "Heh."

Then it plagued him. What if he didn't belong in either of their Houses? Or not even Ravenclaw? He thought of Hufflepuff and grew crestfallen. It was clear to him where he wanted to be. Just be brave, he nudged himself. It'll fall into place the way it should be.

They mounted uphill now, passing scattered stones and black shrubs. The forest ahead loomed, aglow in the setting sun, and Luke discerned some soberness to the man's face when they were nearing. Godric spoke to them loud and clear, "Stop."

They froze, clinging to the hill. The wind died.

"We're going through much more dangerous parts from here," Godric drawled on, mostly addressing Luke. "For Luke, I'm going to run through this one more time. This is the Forbidden Forest. Magical wild creatures live inside it, anything that's in the tales about monsters that you've heard of. Trolls, centaurs, hobgoblins, and the occasional unicorn. Sometimes you may find an acromantula or a giant passing through. We strictly forbid any student from going through, unless on necessary grounds with an adult witch or wizard who is capable of defending them. We still don't know what else is in there. Do you understand?"

Luke nodded, already turning pale.

They huddled when they entered the forest. It wasn't long before they heard a static of overlapping voices further on, so they rushed to keep up with an even larger student body, mostly first and second years, dressed in robes and shuffling down the trodden path. When some had been exclaiming and pointing at Gryffindor, the company halted at the command of Hufflepuff, who strode around them to greet her friend in a warm embrace.

"Good to see you've arrived safely, Godric!" she crowed joyfully, and paused when she spotted a third and unfamiliar person. "Who might you be?"

"Luke Caddock, ma'am," he said to her as if she was family, because somehow, already he felt like he was home. She broke in a merry grin and curtsied almost goofily, "How do you do. I'm Helga Hufflepuff!" In unison, second years in black and yellow scarves chanted, "We're rough, tough, we're good enough!"

Hufflepuff's blue eyes twinkled when she applauded, "Very good, children. You still remember."

"Found him in the village, alone," Gryffindor said calmly.

"Ah, I see," she nodded as if that was all she needed to hear, and took a good look at Luke. "Yes, you'll do great things at Hogwarts. You'll have many friends."

Gryffindor and Hufflepuff ambled to the front of the group, speaking inaudibly now that the students returned to their noisy chatter. Luke glanced around, a bit overwhelmed from the outside looking in, at every individual beaming face that was wizard and witch, before Alix appeared, almost craning to get his attention.

"Alix," he lit up, "Slytherin, right?"

"Hm," she droned on, "I wonder which House you'll be in. May shack up with Craft."

Luke groaned at the thought, then brightened, "Or with you."

She looked at him peculiarly, "You don't seem very passionate."

"I'm plenty passionate!" he defended himself, but she calmed him down with thrown-up hands and a look that told him to get real. They joined in snickering.

"Look!" one of the students screamed in delight, "Whomping Willows!"

Everyone glanced further to the south, and indeed there were giant twisted trees in a family, jut out like thorns, bashing every bird that's flown too near. Their wooden arms creaked loudly before freezing still again. Luke gaped, his eyes popped open, and then again, when the company halted down the road. Little people in rags were gathering in front of them.

Alix frowned, "Elvens. Why are they here?"

"Let's get closer!" Evan showed up from out of nowhere and dragged Luke by the arm who managed to cling onto Alix's sleeve and yanked her along. They neared the front in time to catch on the conversation.

"- at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with us, as a contingent working in the kitchens and helping prepare the feasts. In return, we'll offer you protection from the Muggles. Are we in accord?" Hufflepuff had knelt and looked at one trembling elven in the eyes, giving an encouraging smile. "You'll have your own quarters, I'll make sure of it."

The elvens murmured amongst themselves, eyes bulbous and ears floppy, seeming to agree with her terms. When the coven quieted, and the leader had turned, a wizened smile blossomed. "Elvens humbly accept and are in your servitude. Nockley, most pleased."

"Settled then," she stood with hands at her hips, her hair cherry in the sunset, "Gather as much fruits and herbs as you can find. We've plenty game for everyone. I'll just need to speak with Nockley on how to reach Hogwarts. Godric, you may go on without me."

"Very well, Rowena and Salazar will be satisfied to hear the news," Gryffindor summoned the others to resume the pace. It took what seemed hours, the wandering across fallen logs and in tunnels under an engorged hill, a capricious path to Luke, before they finally left the murky wild and impeded next to a flat, placid lake that stretched out to the sandy shores of a cliff of colossal towers.

There were boats with lanterns tethered to them, and Evan made sure to get in where Luke sat next to Alix. They floated in quiet contemplation through the fog. Torches lit up the fortress, much like the stars that were igniting in the blackening sky. Soon enough, the boats scraped onto land, taking Luke breathless.

This was Hogwarts, and they've arrived.

Luke felt his neck. The pendant was there. This made Evan who had been ogling him without shame pipe up with a devious tone, "What do you have there, Caddock?"

"Nothing," Luke said hastily, "I'm just holding onto it for someone. To keep it safe."

Alix leaned in closer to admire its brilliance, "It's attractive. Is it charmed?"

"As far as I know, it's charmed so that no Muggle can see it," Luke hesitated but disclosed to them and rubbed the smooth crystal, becoming fonder of it already. He grew perplexed at the revealed detail. "Though, I don't know why."

"Useless," Evan gave a cutting laugh, provoking Alix to slug him.

"I'll figure it out," Luke persuaded himself, watching Godric herd up the prattling students to climb the marble stairway. The wizard was domineering and elegant, behaving like a king would, and it made sense, as Hogwarts was partially his kingdom. It astounded the boy when he felt a wrench when Godric almost left without looking. There was a wish to have known him, a riddled wish of too many queries. Clearing his throat, Godric caught him gazing then broke the stare, tearing away as if he was stabbed and trotted up the stairs with the rest of the student body.

Luke thought it must have been they needed to keep it formal, or it was because the founder didn't want any attention drawn to the lion pendant that hung around the boy's neck.

Luke pledged under his breath, "I'll guard it with my life."


	3. Chapter 2: Golden Rock

LUKE CADDOCK AND THE DOMINION SEAL

**CHAPTER 2: GOLDEN ROCK**

The Great Hall bustled with life, candles midair, while the first years and Luke Caddock stood in the aisle between long stone tables and tall carven chairs. His eyes relished the hanging banners that streamed above where the Founders and staff sat: emblems of a badger embroidered black and yellow, an eagle blue and bronze, a serpent green and silver, and a lion red and gold. A short, curly-haired witch in buckles and a crooked hat stepped onto a silver platter that escalated to the winged podium and faced her young audience.

"Headmaster, Belinda Tudor," Luke heard one girl mutter in a panic.

"Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry's eighteenth year," Tudor spoke in a sharp tone, "Standing before me means all of you are just about to be Sorted into four Houses. I will call your name. The seventeen years up until now, we've sorted the students ourselves, but this year, we are going to do something indeed differently."

Bringing out a list, Tudor called their names one by one; the first student warily sat on a stool and trembled when an old, beaten hat was placed on the head. The first yelped when it started wiggling and boomed in a strange voice, "Hufflepuff!"

The rest of the students only giggled with the crowd at the use of the Sorting Hat while they were allocated lyrically into the four Houses. Godric shared a glance with Rowena, who properly nodded, contented with their decision.

Luke breathed irregularly. He was the last one standing. It was hard to endure through the entire first-year sorting; they were mostly eleven year-old children. He stood out as the oldest, so having wondered, he had a funny feeling he might have been upset he hadn't come to school earlier. Tudor blinked at him when she had run out of names on the list and aimed a folded claw of nails at him, "You."

"Luke Caddock, ma'am," he started to introduce himself but she shot a look of impatience. That told him she wasn't in the mood. He took his seat and felt all eyes on him, so he closed his eyes and silently pleaded for Gryffindor.

He was numb to the bone when he sat at the Hufflepuff table, patted on the back and cheered at. Helga looked at him and waved while Godric was more neutral and had slid a greasy steak on his plate. Some students murmured about Evan who had lost his appetite and sat back in disappointment at the verdict.

Candles blew out when a mad cackling quieted the room.

The chairs rattled and the delicious trays of food flipped in the air, exploding a culinary mess onto everyone's faces, hairs, and robes. A shrill voice filled the room, "Inciendo!"

The candles blasted full on flamethrowers while a small man blabbered in the middle of the room, dancing a jig in a hover. Tudor screamed with rage, "Peeves! Out!"

"Nastie, nas-tudor-sie…" Peeves stuck out an orangutan tongue and rolled back his eyes.

"Out, out!" Tudor propelled unseen waves that expelled him into a roll that banished him from the Great Hall. Students looked at her, wide-eyed, covered in their dinner. She didn't meet their eyes and rambled quietly, "We're working on an exorcism…"

Luke was about to join the rest of the students in eating after the elvens proudly rushed in to save Hogwarts's first feast, but when a tiny ruby orb of light whizzed around his plate, Luke was compelled to put down his utensils and stand. He slowly followed it several feet before seeing it zoom back to the skeletal wand of Salazar Slytherin. His pupils of cold metal emanated an eerie sheen, the same color of his hair that flowed to his thighs. Slytherin was standing too, with the rest of the Founders, while Luke looked around the room he realized had gone silent.

Time seemed suspended, except for Tudor still eating her dinner noisily and the elvens filing in a line and departing from the Great Hall. Godric had arms locked behind his back, his green eyes warm. Rowena's stare was fixed on the table, humbled with ears perked. Helga was the only one beaming to see him before them.

"Luke Caddock," said Salazar who looked grim out of the four. "Because of your age, we suspect the Sorting Hat mightn't work well with you, so we'll refer to and commence the original Sorting of the prior seventeen years."

Helga cut in with enthralled cooing, "Our last original Sorting, Mister Caddock! Ooh!"

Salazar proceeded as if he didn't hear, "I am skilled in Legilimency. What that is, is the ability to extract emotions and memories from another person's mind. That will be how I evaluate whether you are suitable for the House of Slytherin. Look into my eyes, Mister Caddock. Think of anything you want. Anything."

It was hypnotic, the stars that set on him with a strange glow.

Luke glistened, trying to erase the sudden flashes of Godric's face, but it was instant when Salazar crushed his consciousness into a murky travel through time. Back to the farm where lambs and goats were picked off by wolves, to the cabin that built to keep him and his father in the woods, and to the Masons kin that disliked anything to do with funny business. His mother was a brown-haired homely woman that always wore a scorn, always telling others how she was tricked by the devil. Her three brothers and her father checked on the cabin in the woods from time to time to make sure they weren't doing any magic and they would harass them until they knew they were leaving them frightened.

Luke was idyllic, completely surrounded by earth and leaves, and whenever he had fallen and scraped his skin, he would cry for his father who was blond like him. His father always said that if they prayed hard enough, the pain would go away, and then he restored the wound. His father had a pained smile when he promised that they'd venture to a place beyond their wildest dreams.

A conflagration of fear had Luke's heart battering, knowing it was all coming back. He tried to twist from it, but couldn't. Salazar plunged in deeper until the woods were on fire, the cabin just about collapsing, and the Masons had bashed his father down with a torch.

"Run," Luke heard his father's voice whisper in the back of his head.

Across the United Kingdom in the Middle Ages for all his life, that was what Luke Caddock did.

Salazar sneered and diminished the apparition, eyes wet towards the boy with pity and disgust. He shook his head and turned in shame, "You shouldn't have let me see that. The House of Slytherin isn't for you, I'm sorry. Go on."

It was a blow, but Luke figured he didn't want to be in Slytherin anyway.

He then moved on with Ravenclaw who began a lengthy questionnaire of complex scholarly equations and trivia, which he struggled for the longest on whether it was the midnight root or the ground bat wing that saved a witch from a goblin's curse. Luke was exasperated to hear the way Ravenclaw whispered he's failed her test and blushed when she gave him an unforgiving glare. He felt he was carted away when he reached Godric Gryffindor.

If there was any enthusiasm, Godric hid it well.

With blinding speed, he shot out a wand and shouted as if they were at war, "Reverentia!"

A shadow swept over Luke, and he was back in the woods. To his left, a Mason was charging towards him with a licking match. He was startled into screaming and had fallen over a branch. The Founders watched the boy stumble and crash on his back on the floor, crawling away pathetically. It pained all but Salazar, who saw nothing but a cowering mudblood.

Luke shielded his face and started to scream, about to be burned alive, "No, I'm not a wizard! Don't kill me!" before Godric ended it, swiftly bringing back his true sight. Luke panted and realized what had just happened, almost too embarrassed to stand again.

"Luke Caddock, you just faced your worst fear," Godric said, his eyes briefly meeting Helga's. "The Sorting Hat was accurate. You belong in the House of Hufflepuff. You're loyal and hardworking. You believe in fairness and treating everyone the same."

All that Godric had said was true, and Luke detested agreeing to it. He really wanted to be a Gryffindor. He really had thought he was brave enough. Luke looked at Helga and eventually shrugged, nodding, "Fine by me. As long as I get to learn."

"That's the spirit," Helga beamed. "A fine Hufflepuff example you are!"

Luke despaired, not feeling quite special, but he still put on an encouraged smile. He walked back to his seat and when he began to eat, time flooded back to the Feast with overlapping chatter. He was about to take a bite but he realized he wasn't feeling hungry. A large hand rested on Luke's shoulder, causing him to turn. It was Godric.

"Come, I want a word with you outside," Gryffindor invited, and Luke couldn't turn him down, so they walked together towards the exit.

When they were drawn to a small stained glass window down a dark corridor, they stopped, bathed in gloomy rainbow glow, and paused, unsure of how to start dialogue. Luke was mostly off the hook, waiting on Godric to tell him what they were doing here, but as he couldn't stand the awkward silence, he began to take off the pendant. Godric protested instantly, "No, keep it with you. Put it somewhere no one can get to it. Keep it safe."

"I just wanted to say…" Godric faltered, a smoldering display of lucidity, "Slytherin described to me briefly of what he's seen of your history with your family. I understand that was what I forced you to go through again back there. I'm sure that was quite too much to handle. Are you -?"

"I'm fine," Luke said lowly.

"You are a wizard, and no less important," burred Godric, "You must remember that."

Luke flushed red, remembering his sobbing denial of the self, "I wasn't very brave."

Godric shook his head, "That's because you have no idea how powerful you are."

"Godric, darling!" a lady in a rosy black gown glided across the room, shimmered with torchlight. She was so gorgeous that Luke instantly desired her, but went raving jealous to see Godric start after her before they tightly embraced. Their lips met and locked. When they stepped back, their eyes never left each other for a long moment.

Luke ached. It was wonderful to see a gentle side to the king.

"I've just brought the things you forgot and left at our house," the lady raked his velvet hair, "Thought one'd need them for teaching."

When Godric remembered that Luke was there, he rushed the introduction, "Claire, this is Mister Caddock. He was recently sorted into Hufflepuff."

"My, you took me for someone older!" she exclaimed while her wolf eyes burned with curiously.

"I'm nineteen," Luke mumbled, eyes darting to Gryffindor.

"Mister Caddock," Godric sensed his insecurity, "this is my bride to be, Miss Claire Swantail."

"We're getting married in the spring," Claire said, her dainty hands fidgeting until Godric clutched them to soothe her, the diamond ring shone bright, and they shared an intimate look that Luke could not understand. They both glanced back at him.

"Congratulations! You'll make a beautiful family," Luke told somewhat the truth, swallowing the shock at himself for feeling this agonized. He must've really liked Gryffindor after all.

At his flattery, Godric and Claire blushed, but it was Godric that blinked most.

A gathering of Houses poured in the grand lobby; Helga waved for Caddock to join her group, and he, relieved, left mutely in a run towards them. Godric kissed his fiancé a sweet farewell and returned to collect his young residents. Thankfully, Evan was nowhere in sight, but unfortunately, neither was Alix. Luke had strained to peer through the crowd but to no avail.

"Hup!" Helga led her ducklings across the room towards the kitchen where elvens toiled over the dishes. The students started murmuring, worried that they were to sleep in ovens or pee in the sinks. Luke hoped not. They went down a cellar and stopped before a glowing canvas of parchment, a large face of intimidation, materialized in fine ink.

"Password?" it boomed.

The students quivered. Some knees were knocked together, inciting nervous laughter. After Helga explained to them the importance of keeping the location and password of their House, she announced clear for all to hear, "Badger Foot."

The canvas swung open and revealed a hole in the castle's wall to the common room that towered to a bell. On the circular wall, vibrant yellow banners were hung, and near the roaring fireplace, there were fat armchairs of black leather. The floor was rich mahogany wood, polished and elegant. The bookshelves were filled with skin-bound classics and scrolls secured in knotted twines. There was a giant potted tree in the very hub, spraying a peach fragrance. Helga plucked a peach off a stumpy branch and asked them to help themselves.

Luke watched with fascination as a chubby boy was beginning to stock up armfuls of peaches before Helga reprimanded him and gave a hearty laugh, "Ashton Tew, for seven years, I've been telling you and telling you, this tree never runs out of fruit!"

The short stairs between the bookcases led to the girls' wing; girls fled to see which bed they were taking while Helga followed them, warning them to slow down. The boys were heading for the ladder that reached the second floor, and Luke saw some had waited until Ashton had completely made it off the ladder, in fear that his round butt may fall on them. Luke almost would've been the last one to climb but Mihangel, a second year, let him go first. He had trembled and whispered at him to go on, clearly traumatized by something.

"Are you okay?" Luke said, lending Mihangel a helping hand up on the second floor.

"I like to be last," Mihangel whispered and went straight to bed, quiet for the night.

Luke found the only bedchamber without a name on it on his immediate left, the closest one to the door. Everyone took their time to unpack their luggage and filled their cabinets with their clothes that it made Luke feel the odd one out as he came without any. Just when he had started to worry, he checked his cabinets and became relieved to find there were spare robes just for him. It was not too far from his size too, though they hung loosely past his cuffs. When he ensured no one was looking, he had put the lion pendant under his pillow, making a mental note to himself to find and conjure a spell to sufficiently hide it.

Ashton passed wind in the bed next to his.

"Oh my fucking God," someone said in a far corner.

Ashton shot up an arm, "That was not me."

"That's the second time I forgot what sucks about Hogwarts," Emyr, a second-year, complained to a ring of Hufflepuffs, "Peyew Tew, and that batty Salazar Slytherin."

Some oohed and shuddered, "He rounds the halls at night. I heard he's busted a couple of Gryffindors sneaking out and took them to the forest and ate them alive..."

"Had your broomstick gone and hit a wall?" Emyr scowled at them, "I snuck out and got busted before. The forest's scarier than Slytherin, take my word. Slytherin has nothing against us. Except for whomever he knows were born to Muggles. It's them he hates. Mudbloods, he'd call them. No mudblood would ever be let in his House. That's the first thing he looks for in your head."

Luke hyperventilated at the reason that was behind his rejection, but cooled when Helga came by, her arm waving around the corner, shouting, "Yoohoo! Boys, are you dressed?"

They agreed in unison, so she stepped inside and clapped, "I'm present to check in with everyone. How was your summer, boys? It's so good to have you back. Now, Mister Caddock, seeing that you have not yet acquired a wand of your own, the Founders decided first thing in the morning after breakfast, you are to go to Diagon Alley. Gryffindor has volunteered to take you."

She paused to hear any objection, but shell-shocked, Luke managed to smile. She took that as a way of showing his appreciation and moved on, "Hufflepuffs, I also wanted to say that this year at Hogwarts will be another marvelous one, it will be both adventurous and dangerous. If you see something that doesn't feel right, or if you start to feel unsafe, you come to me. Understand?"

There was a small wave of nods. She insisted, "Come to me. Okay, lights out in a few minutes."

When everyone returned to their unpacking, Luke decided to leave the boy's wing and check out the books in the common room, but before he climbed down the ladder, he heard a faint chiming that made him look upward to the bell. It was ringing almost tentatively.

Tempted step by step, Luke stayed on the second floor. He circled around the room to another set of ladders. The bell was persistent but fleeting, so he hurried and was passing an open window before a hand clutched his arm. Evan, on a broomstick, yanked Luke through the window for a kiss so roughly Luke felt his tongue being tackled.

He tore back, shivering with anger, and screamed, "Bastard! Get out of here!"

Evan looked smug, having gotten what he wanted for the night, and swerved out of sight.

Luke rubbed his lips dry of his blood after bitten them by mistake.

Roaming a hall with a small font of light scattering from the tip of his wand, Gryffindor kept his mind bent on one thing: finding Salazar. It was the third time he passed this particular hall before a coffin-shaped door appeared. He entered the Room of Requirement, in the vision of a glamorous altar. There were statues of known wizards and witches, mostly from legends, inside the walls as if it were their open caskets. There was a leveled stage where there was only a single plush sofa under the high dome of angels, some brilliant, some fallen.

Salazar lied on the couch with arms shielding his face from the candlelight.

Godric closed the door behind him and strolled across the room towards him, "I remember the summer I visited you in the fen where you grew up, maybe twenty summers ago. It was freezing. The ground was always wet and soggy. There was not much light that could get through the trees and the constant storm. From what I remember, your family didn't take to me kindly."

"It's marshlands. They're protective," Salazar remarked, still shielded.

"They didn't take kindly to you either," countered Godric, now standing close by.

"No need to remind me."

"What ever did happen to them?"

"Some drowned, some turned to toads…" Salazar moaned as if it was a tedious thing to say and sat upright, giving him a tired look. "I'm not in the mood to reminiscence. This wasn't why I asked you to come tonight. I was actually reading in the library and came across something called the Haal Brooch. It's onyx, made by a Nordic runemaker forty, maybe fifty, years ago. Do you know what I speak of, Godric?"

Godric stared at him in silence, wondering if this was all he was good for, just for being excelled in the knowledge of Runes, but did not object to their meeting, "Yes, the Hailstone."

A glint swiped the cat eyes as Salazar noticed Godric's somber face. His hands slipped around Godric's waist and pulled him onto the couch in a relaxed hold. Now they were at ease. Godric closed his eyes, feeling the faint and erratic thuds of Salazar's heart.

It was both a pleasure and a twang of guilt when he felt the throb in Salazar's crotch that burned under his back but for Claire's sake, he didn't make a move. It soon got harder to breathe.

Salazar's lips curled, "Thinking of her, aren't you?"

"Yes," Godric couldn't lie. Salazar always knew when he was lying.

"And that pendant boy," hissed Salazar in a mocking tone.

"I told you to stay out of my head," Godric started to move away but Salazar held him back in a strong grip, holding his wrists apart. He gave up resisting and tried to explain, "Caddock's new to magic. He just reminds me of myself when I was his age."

"You're full of it, lust, desire," Salazar added, reading right through him. "Claire's saving herself for marriage, and I hadn't given you much attention in some time, so you set your eyes on a little… prince."

"It's not like that," Godric frowned and tried to break away, but Salazar easily overpowered him.

"I know you, Godric," he chuckled loudly while slipping his hand through his robe. Godric started to groan at being groped. It had been some time. "You are a gentleman of need, you and I both know that. And I will take care of that in a minute."

Godric gasped at being fired up, grinding his bum into Salazar's pelvis and encompassing the rising spear that it almost entered him if it weren't for the robes in the way. Both seeped shuddering breaths. Salazar clutched Godric's wavy mane and arched him back to ram his tongue in his mouth, toying with him as usual. He pulled even more. He snaked his tongue across the throat that gulped and separated Godric's robes to reveal his thick penis, slipped out of his briefs. Godric kissed Salazar again, those lips of his were insatiable, before he was kicked off the couch.

"Suck," Salazar grabbed the back of Godric's head and brought him deeper in between his legs.

This only made the amused Godric rumble and sought out the hidden serpent. When he brought it out, he wanted to take the time to admire it but before he knew it, he was choking on it, complying with it. An emperor on the emerald couch, Salazar sat and bent Godric to his will, consumed with sexual power. Godric was for all time his possession. For all time.

Salazar delighted in the affectionate look Godric gave him while licking at the head of his penis.

Salazar had Godric lie on his back with legs spread and hooked around his shoulders. Godric pleaded it to be gentle but wasn't surprised to be assaulted in no time. He uttered pain, putting Salazar at a halt, having left wet kisses up his ribs, their favorite spot. Salazar entered him again, slowly. Godric fell lost into Salazar's stricken face that was overshadowed by the dome of angels when they released. They panted like beasts, Salazar slumping on top of him.

Godric gazed at the angels and scrutinized each one of them, seeing them slowly hover as their feathers began to drift down. This was an eloquent allure of Salazar's, he was sure. He cleared his throat and said reluctantly, "One day, this will have to stop…"

"Hm," Salazar opened then closed his eyes. "It'll be just one day."

It was pouring out, upsetting the surface of the lake. The sky pounded with a harsh gray glare, but even still, owls flocked about campus, adamant to deliver their parcels. Luke was in the same corridor with the stained glass window while he saw the other students scrambled from the Great Hall to their classes, books in arms and wand in hand. Luke started to wonder which wand he would get and how one was to get it. He brightened when he saw Gryffindor approach but turned to worry when Godric appeared stiff in his walk.

"Are you okay, Godric?" Luke checked.

Godric winced and mumbled about improper sleeping positions before he hastily changed the subject, "We'll need to go into the forest."

Luke said nothing as he followed Gryffindor. In the blast of the cold rain, they rushed into the shield of the gnashing leaves. Because it was still, it got even colder. Godric took his hand. Their hands clasped for a moment so glorious that he hadn't noticed the change in scenery, still holding onto him and it had felt right. When Luke realized they were holding hands for some time, he let go. Godric hadn't, and in a slow parting of fingers, his engagement ring clattered to the floor.

Godric summoned it back to his hand and fitted it around his ring finger.

Avoiding what would've been an awkward silence, Luke looked around and blinked in the morning light; they were in a room in the back of a vacant tavern.

He asked, "Is this Diagon Alley?"

"That's London," Godric went to a wall and tapped a certain way on the bricks. It opened a doorway into a bustling narrow lane of witches and wizards, filled with shops and goods of unimaginable sorts that made Luke feel like he had stepped into a dream. "This is Diagon Alley."

They entered Ollivander's, a small and musty place on a corner, with dust-caked windows and a staggering number of candles that lined the cabinets of the walls, clearly charmed and immune to their intense burn. Before long, a young man, Ollivander, in a well-tailored suit dashed out and peered at them until he recognized the elder, "Well, hello! Bright and early, a field trip from Hogwarts, I'm much delighted to meet another of your students, Gryffindor!"

"Luke Caddock, sir," he shook his hand.

"Let's begin then, Mister Caddock," Ollivander led them to the back where a long table was covered in a royal blue drape. It was suspended in the air at will, revealing an assortment of wands, so many that it started a panic in Caddock. How long was this going to take? Godric took a step back to watch. "Raise your dominant hand."

Luke brought up his right, and paused.

"Keep it raised, now hold it over the wands," Ollivander instructed. "Don't touch. It is known amongst the witches and wizards that the wand chooses you. Go see which one does."

"How will I know?" Luke asked.

"You'll know," Ollivander assured him. "Go on."

It was by surprise when a gust kicked open the door and the candles blew out as a wand lifted to his open hand that caught it eagerly and felt the elegant linings of dark cherry. Even Ollivander cooed, "The core is a phoenix feather. Says a lot about you, Master Caddock. Hm, intriguing."

Luke asked, "Like what? What does it say?"

"Many great things, Master Caddock," Ollivander eyed him curiously. "You will be known."

Gryffindor pulled out a small sack and began counting knuts and galleons before Ollivander interrupted with a cough, "That will not be necessary, I have decided I shall give Mister Caddock his wand for free. Consider it a much-needed gift to the world. Be sure to tell your friends and their friends to come by as a favor."

Luke felt a swell of power in the wand that electrified his body, and for once in his life, he was starting to believe he had something that belonged to him. It was this dark cherry wand.

He looked at Godric and fought back the tears that shimmered in his eyes. He hated that he had seen. Godric broke into a smirk. Luke wanted to thank him, especially for considering making the purchase, wanted to tell him how good this felt having someone there, but said nothing. It wasn't just because someone was there for him. It was because it was Godric.

When they walked onto Hogwarts grounds, the rain ceased and sun took its place.

"If you asked me, Luke, it looks like a good day to fly," Godric winked.

Outside in a wide clearing behind the cliffs, Godric led Luke to Flying Class, where a handful of students in their robes were standing before a row of shabby broomsticks and Helga Hufflepuff. Helga gave a wholehearted wave, bidding them a wonderful morning, and exclaimed at the dark cherry wand that Luke charily carried. Luke had been distracted that he didn't see Godric leave. Luke started to feel maybe he preferred it that way. It was easier on him. He looked for but did not find Alix in the class before he realized this was a first-year class. Luke felt pathetic already.

"Okay! Step over the broom!" Hufflepuff's eyes dazzled with anticipation.

It took them many tries before they had it right, the broomstick slapping into their clutch, and finally, they saddled it. Hufflepuff shouted whoops of excitement and made Luke start to feel like they were at one of those fancy balls the nobles and the elite would host, with loud music and laughter. Because of this, he saw Hufflepuff in a different way, and was slightly ashamed to have immediately wanted her for a mother or relative in the family.

She cautiously guided them into lifting off the ground, and before they got frightened, they were flying, a little higher than some would've liked so they screamed. Luke instead loved it. It was natural to him, the way he sat on the broom was stable, and maneuvering in circles were steady and smooth that boosted his confidence in being a flyer.

Even Hufflepuff took notice and praised him, "First exceptional flyer, Mister Caddock. Five points to Hufflepuff!"

Without warning, there was a small flame that volleyed from one of the towers and smashed his shoulder, knocking him nearly off the broom, only dangling by one hand. The other checked his robe; the wand was still there. Hufflepuff, with a horrified gasp, saddled her broom and kicked off the ground. She helped him back on his broom and murmured she may have spoken too soon.

He saw Evan backing from a window and scowled. He had had enough.

Luke glanced at his class list and stopped midway his angry, brisk walk down the hall. Transfiguration was next, and it was advanced, a medley of years, and the name of the teacher had turned up Godric Gryffindor. His heart skipped a beat. Luke was going to be seeing a lot of him this year. He raced with the students that poured in.

Ensuring he had a seat in the front, Luke took the time to look around and saw it was particularly quaint, a bit cluttered with thick books and diagrams of runic markings. The windows were so dusty, the room was burnt brown in the sun. Several students turned the door, arriving, but Godric was not in sight yet. He caught himself still arched and looking, and mumbled under his breath, "Please… stay in check."

"He's engaged," Luke continued, seeing how that wasn't enough. "Engaged to a witch. And they'll go on to have a happy ending together. They'll have a beautiful family and a lovely home somewhere beyond their wildest dreams. He'll never think once about your name or your face. If you keep being like this, you're never going to recognize yourself."

When Godric went to the front of the classroom, Luke was stunned to see it had worked. He already felt numb. Godric had become just another teacher, another stranger just about to be forgotten. He was just someone who was merely interested in the safety of the lion pendant and Luke was just a charity case. Soon those warm eyes of his wore off, and soon became friendly.

Luke started to feel embarrassed how terribly disillusioned he was, but grateful nothing worse had happened, nothing spun out of control. Things were as they should have been from the start.

"Welcome to Transfiguration," Godric gripped his desk, his eyes first resting on Luke, smiling with a burst of eagerness, before settling on his class, "You'll be learning how to make dreams come true. You'll be learning how to change rocks into birds, walls into doors, trees into anything your heart wills it into. You'll see it most useful in the near future, it'll be as simple as breathing in air. Bring out your wand."

When everyone brought out their wands, it occurred to Luke that it was finally time to use his dark cherry wand. Godric sent smooth, flat stones floating across the room until each fell onto the desks before the students. Luke examined his for a moment before Godric began speaking again, "Today, we'll be covering the Mineral spell. By the end of the hour, you should have by then transfigured these rocks into gold."

Gold! Luke's mouth dropped at the possibilities. Godric noticed and poorly hid his smirking, but Luke hadn't seen. No one did. They were too enamored by the plain, grey rock that nested in their palms. He then grabbed their attention with a clearing of his throat and exhibited the proper motion of the wand, which fell like a zigzagging river, but none could imitate his grace. Their wands jerked and plopped too hungrily.

Luke glanced around and thought of Alix, whom face was almost fading from memory.

"All right," Godric ended the gesture, "Only after the wand moves does one say, 'Imergo'."

"Imergo," the class mimicked in unison, pleased that was easy enough.

After countless trials, some succeeded, squealing in joy and holding up a glittering chunk of gold for all to see while others burned with envy. The hour passed. By the end of class, Luke stared at the rock somberly, the only one who didn't get gold. He wasn't good enough.

The boy spat constantly, "Imergo. Imergo…"

It wasn't until Godric's hand on his shoulder that snapped him out of it.

Luke saw that they were the only ones in the classroom, and everyone had left. Godric seemed to soften with sympathy, but Luke couldn't bear to look at him anymore. He was about to stand but Godric's both hands on his shoulders made him sit, "Try again."

"I can't do it, it's too late," Luke started to feel sick.

"Wrong," Godric said. "Even I had trouble with mastering my wand at your age."

Luke looked up at him and couldn't think of a thing to say.

"I lived in a moor," said Godric, his big hands massaging Luke's stiff shoulders. At first, Luke wanted to protest but it flared an indefinite, incredible feeling that he ended up letting him. He closed his eyes. "The sky was wide and blue. It was almost always sunny. Where there were no trees, there was meadow. There was a cottage. I was raised there by another family and had never met or known my own. They were stringent and mistrustful, and when I failed to meet their expectations as a 'wielder' as they called it, I was punished."

Godric stared at the grimy windows, "They would make sure that I tasted coal each meal until I surpassed their tests. No matter how many times I tried, I couldn't prove to them or myself that I was a wizard like them."

Luke couldn't do anything but gaze into the dimness, feeling Godric's fingers rub the edge out of his muscles. He bit himself to stop the moans that threatened to erupt, but that didn't stop his penis from thickening in between his legs, making him blush.

"So one day, I ran away, I couldn't bear the consequences anymore, couldn't bear the shame. It was by the sea I came across a very old woman. She was blind so she reached out to me, all dressed in a raggedy shawl, deaf to my voice, mute to my ears, and I approached her first because she couldn't walk. She sat inside a hollow rock that resembled a broken egg, but somehow, she knew I had come. She knew all along I was coming because she handed over my wand to me."

The massage stopped to Luke's drowsy surprise. One of Godric's hands flowed down Luke's right arm and gripped his wrist. At first it was coarse, but then gentle. Heartbeats pulsed between each other. Luke felt his hand raised in the air, and slowly, their hands danced together down a peaceful river. He felt a balmy breath scratch the back of his neck and kept his eyes closed to relish it all. He pleaded to himself to breathe.

It was so quiet he heard their heartbeats start to calm, and he was almost already sleepy. All he wanted was just to lean back and rest in the arms of Godric Gryffindor. Just to rest his head where he knows shan't be. He remembered himself in time and hastily whispered, "Imergo."

In an instant, gold scales crusted over the grey rock, like it was a coal set afire, blazoned with luxury. A smile crawled across Luke's face, his eyes lit with release. His dick was rock hard now, tingling and screaming. He fidgeted.

"I think I'm late," Luke mumbled lowly.

Godric brought out the class list, and together they saw that he wasn't late at all, rather that his next period was free. Luke couldn't have been more wound up and sickened at the same time.

"We have time," Godric said as if it was a daydream, "Around this time, I'd be deciphering runes and examining arcane craft, but after consulting with the Founders, I saw to it that I could be beneficial for you as a private tutor, since you are starting later than the others."

How beneficial? Luke wanted to invite but clamped on his tongue.

"Unless you prefer not, I'd understand," Godric added, prolonging the silence.

Luke fidgeted some more. He was thankful Godric couldn't see the dismay in his face, still standing behind him. Godric's hands settled on his shoulders. How badly Luke desired this. How torn he really was. It wasn't until he picked up the gold and stared at it for a moment, waiting for an answer. On cue, the sunlight exploded, making the room spectacularly brighter.

He started to nod, hesitantly, "It's an honor, Godric… only if you want to. I don't feel right taking up too much of your time."

"I have plenty time," Godric slipped an astonished laugh.

"I don't want to be a burden," Luke persisted.

"Luke, you couldn't be one if you tried," Godric turned round the desk and faced him with a pair of intense green eyes, grinning as if he had made a hilarious joke. His hands gripped the end. Luke tried to look at him in the eyes without melting. "You're too humble, it's fairly entertaining. Come, let's do another exercise."

Luke didn't want to stand, for sake of the blatant bulge in his pants. To stall for time, he commenced sounding stupid and wanted to hurt himself, "What kind of exercise?"

"A fascinating one," Godric raised a brow.

Having trouble with swallowing, Luke couldn't reckon it. His teacher was teasing him.

"Oh," Luke glanced over his shoulder, "Can we take a break? I need to go to the lavatory."

"Not a problem, I was just thinking that as well," Godric strolled to and stopped at the door before he looked back. It occurred to Luke that he was coming with.

He faltered in standing up and was relieved to see that the robe hanged low enough to cover everything. He shuffled across the room. Before they left, Godric patted him on the back and cuffed his neck playfully, "You'll be happy here at Hogwarts, I'll make sure of it."

It was a tender walk down the hall, and no one was around to see them enter the lavatory together. It was empty, quiet with sparse drips, and there was a chill which made Luke finally shudder out loud. Godric muttered an incantation and instantly, the temperature rose a few degrees. Luke went to a stall and brought out his burning cock, unsure how to pretend to piss into the trench dug in the ground with Godric now walking up next to him. Godric did all the pissing.

"Useful spell," Luke stared at the wall while hoping to distract him. "I want to learn that."

"All in good time," said Godric, who stared at the wall too.

It felt incredible cradling his dick in his hand, even better listening to Godric piss so close by, but it all felt so wrong. Luke was struck with a pang of guilty pleasure. Stay in check, he silently pleaded. He knew he wasn't going to urinate anytime soon so he hastily tucked it back in, with trouble because it was stiff and unwilling to bend. He left and hurried to the basin of gargling water, and washed his hands. By the time Godric came to the basin, Luke had gone from the lavatory.

Godric gazed into his own folding reflection. Among his ginger beard divulged a smile.


End file.
